Supreme Commander of This Vessel
by KaylaNorail
Summary: [Cabin Pressure/Mass Effect crossover] Two very important things happened to Commander Martin Crieff on that fateful day. First, he came one step closer to fulfiling his lifelong dream of becoming a Spectre. Second, he unexpectedly got himself into a way bigger mess than he had signed up for. [ON HIATUS]
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Inspired by the fact that completely accidentally I named one of my male Shepards "Martin" and made him borderline ginger. The fact he's also a commander only cemented the idea.**

 **Basically** ** _Mass Effect_** **with Martin Crieff as the saviour of the galaxy, with the rest of the** ** _Cabin Pressure_** **main characters lending a hand.**

 **Will also feature quite a bunch of other/minor ME characters, but a full list of them would probably be longer than the fic itself.**

 **Also, since I'm a quite irregular person, the fic will probably be updated in a quite irregular fashion. Sorry in advance.**

 **ALSO, my keyboard is dying one key at a time, and while I try to fix all the typos, there may still be some left. Sorry for that as well.**

 **What the heck am I doing.**

* * *

"What about Crieff? Earthborn, the first Alliance soldier in his family—"

"Got his N7 rank at seventh try."

"This does not sound like a recommendation."

"Right, Admiral. Let's move on to a more appropriate candidate—"

"Not so fast, Udina."

"Anderson, you can't be serious. Crieff is not an option. We are talking about seven tries here. _Seven_."

"But he still _got_ that rank, that's what counts. Not everyone makes it that far. If anything, this proved he doesn't give up easily."

"Unlike the people who granted him the rank because they _pitied_ him. Or were just tired of seeing him almost _die_ on his every attempt."

"Or impressed by his persistence."

"Unlikely, if you ask me. Anyway, even if his results were not exactly abysmal, they were certainly the worst in the history of the N7 program."

"But not the worst in the history of ICT. He surely can learn and—"

"Is that the kind of person we want protecting the galaxy?"

"…Okay, now _that's_ a good question…"

The _Normandy_ was probably the most amazing spaceship Martin Crieff had ever seen. No, not probably— _absolutely._ She was beautiful, elegant, sleek, modern, dangerous—he could not find enough positive adjectives to do her justice—and, best of all, he was now _aboard her._ If his five-years-old self could have seen her, he would've probably decided that this was just the kind of spaceship he wanted to be, while his six-and-beyond-years-old self would be overjoyed to just be a part of the crew—especially the influential part.

"Commander?"

"Y-yes?"

Roused up from yet another moment of being enamoured with the ship to the point of not paying attention to anyone who might be onboard, Martin blinked and looked down. Right. He was supposed to socialize with the rest of the crew—at this very moment, he was standing on the bridge and trying to talk to the people there.

"I was just asking what do you think about Nihlus being here, Commander," said the man in the pilot seat, Jeff Moreau, whom almost everyone onboard simply called 'Joker'—a well-deserved nickname, considering that none of the few brief conversations Martin had had with the man so far ended on a serious note.

"Ah—Nihlus." Martin cleared his throat. "Well, Nihlus is, uh… Where is he?" He looked around. When he had come, there were three people on the bridge. Now, after Martin had snapped out of his spaceship fanboy trance, only two of them were left, Joker and the other one, Kaidan Alenko, occupying the seat on Joker's right. Martin hadn't really talked to Kaidan after their introduction; all he knew about him was that Kaidan was an Alliance soldier and apparently a talented biotic. But the third person, a tall turian Spectre named Nihlus, bearing an air of confidence and superiority, was gone.

"Anyway," Martin continued before anyone could answer his question, "Nihlus seems… to be a… very capable man?" He finished sheepishly. He couldn't really have much of an opinion on yet another person he hadn't interacted much.

"Well, yeah." Joker rolled his eyes. "But that wasn't really what I was asking about. I mean, him being here? It's not a good sign. This mission is soon going to hell, along with us, I tell you."

To his right, Kaidan groaned. "You're only saying that because you feel he didn't compliment you enough."

"Hey, I don't let my personal feelings influence my _other_ personal feelings about having Spectres onboard."

"I'm pretty sure we'll be fine," Martin said. "Nihlus is here only to oversee things. The Council's money helped to pay for this ship, after all."

"Yeah, I just said that a minute ago." Kaidan glanced at him. "Seems like your mind was somewhere else longer than we thought, Commander."

"Well, um, sorry about that. I was deep in thought about… our mission. To be prepared. Because we should be prepared."

"Just don't do it once you hit the surface. It can be kind of deadly in some circumstances," Joker quipped. Kaidan chuckled at that, Martin only winced.

"I _know_ that," he said quite sharply, but decided not to tell them he knew that from experience. That cruiser on Elysium had been just a bit too awesome not to look at it, even under heavy batarian fire. He was about to ramble on about the mission—although everything he'd been told about it could be summarised in "go to Eden Prime"—responsibility and safety, maybe get to know more about Joker and Kaidan's credentials along the way, but then Captain Anderson's voice came over the comm, demanding a status report. While Anderson and Joker exchanged technicalities, Martin silently waited for them to stop so he could get back to trying to salvage his attempt at socialising, but that apparently would have to wait for a little longer.

"Tell Commander Crieff to meet me in the comm room for a debriefing," Anderson said just before logging out.

At any other time, Martin would sigh in frustration at a sudden change of plans—especially _his_ plans, his carefully laid out plans, even if they concerned simply _talking to people_ —but now he actually smiled at Anderson's order.

"I'm coming, sir!" Martin announced and turned on his heel, making his way to the comm room. A debriefing! Finally! At last he would get some details. As simple as their mission would seem, he really wanted to know a little more than their destination. Even during a shakedown run everything could happen, and Martin wanted to be prepared for that everything. Still, he preferred for things to stay relatively simple. A nice mission with low chances of messing up would be just what he needed after a series of less-than-stellar accomplishments.

He straightened up and headed for the comm room, leaving the bridge and passing the CIC—but then something else caught his attention.

"I want to take pictures, but they don't want me to take a camera with me. This is unfair. I've never been to Eden Prime. I'd like to have some souvenir from my first visit!"

"Then take a rock. Eden Prime has plenty of rocks just lying there wand waiting for someone to pick them up."

"But an Eden Prime rock looks just like… like a regular rock! From Earth! Or another planet! If I take a rock from Eden Prime and keep it, how will I later know it's an Eden Prime rock and not an Earth rock? Or a Terra Nova rock?"

"You can always tag it."

"But then I'd be _defacing_ the rock! It would diminish its value!"

"Arthur, are you planning to _sell_ that rock?"

"Of course not! It's supposed to be _my souvenir!_ And it can't be my souvenir if I sell it!"

"Then maybe just _pick that rock,_ tag it, and be content with your brand new tagged Eden Prime rock."

"But—"

"Oh, then just pick _something_ and we'll think of it later, when you get back."

"But we can't think of my Eden Prime souvenir after I leave Eden Prime—oh, hi, Commander!"

"Ah—hello," Martin replied as a young marine standing by the door to the comm room gave him a wide smile and something between a salute and a wave. A short elderly woman wearing a medical outfit and standing by the man's side, rolled her eyes and briefly hid her face in her hand.

"Arthur, dear," she groaned, glaring at her companion, "you shouldn't really 'hi' a commander."

"What? A commander too?" Arthur complained. "The list is getting longer and longer…"

"Yes, yes, maybe it would be easier for you to simply remember not to 'hi' anyone whose rank is higher than yours… which would mean almost everyone in the military."

"You're a private?" Martin raised his brows. Normally he wouldn't be surprised, but given that the ship seemed to be filled with well-trained soldiers and some high-ranking individuals, the private's presence stood out.

"At the moment, yes." Arthur grinned. "But I'm hoping for a promotion."

"Arthur is a biotic, you see," the woman said. "Apparently he's shown a lot of potential… but not much of self-control. I'm Carolyn Knapp-Shappey, by the way, the doctor assigned to this ship." She offered Martin a hand.

"Martin Crieff. _Commander_ Martin Crieff. Nice to meet you." Martin shook Carolyn's hand, to her apparent disappointment; it belatedly crossed Martin's mind that it wasn't exactly what she'd offered her hand for.

"Well…" She coughed. "And this promising young soldier is my son, Arthur Shappey— _Arthur, you really shouldn't!_ "

But Arthur was already vigorously shaking Martin's hand. "It's going to be great, working with you, Commander!"

"R-really?" Martin felt his cheeks warm up and hoped he wasn't blushing. He wasn't used to hearing compliments. Most people weren't too enthusiastic at the prospect of working alongside him. Not with the guy who failed to receive the N7 rank six times before finally succeeding. "I'm… glad to hear that, Private."

"Say, you're an N7 graduate, right? It says so on your armour." His eyes glistening with excitement, Arthur pointed at the symbol on Martin's chest.

"Well, it is as you said." The warmth moved from his cheeks to his chest, morphing into pride. A quiet voice in his head told Martin he should get going and talk to Anderson, but surely he could spare a minute for someone who came closer to admiring him than anyone ever had?

"You see, I have a question and so far nobody could answer that, but surely _you_ can, being an N7 commando and all."

"And what's the question?"

"What does the 'N' in 'N7' stand for?"

It took Martin a second to realise what he was just asked. "The—what?"

"The 'N.' In 'N7.' And other 'N-insert-number-here' designations. Really, no one seems to know, and I asked a lot of people about it. But I bet you do." Arthur sounded as if he could bet his own life on it. "You've got the N7 rank, and it's the highest, and you probably wouldn't have got it if you hadn't known, so… what does it stand for?"

Martin had expected many possible questions—about his training, about possible tips he could have for a potential commando, about some meaningful experiences and so on—but not that one. His mind went momentarily brain, as if his brain needed rebooting, and he simply stared at Arthur with his mouth open before muttering, "I think I should go, the captain is waiting for me."

He didn't wait for a response and quickly walked away, not sure what had just happened. Maybe it was some kind of joke. Not funny at all. A waste of his precious time. He shouldn't have stopped and listened to that conversation at all. Hopefully Captain Anderson wouldn't be too mad at him for that little delay.

But as Martin entered the comm room, he did not see Anderson there. Instead, the only person waiting inside was Nihlus, standing in front of the comm terminal. As soon as the door closed behind Martin, the turian turned around.

"I hoped for a chance for a private conversation, Commander Crieff," he said. His stare gave Martin chills, although he could say that about pretty much all turians who had ever looked at him. Maybe they would seem a little bit less menacing if he could at least read their emotions, but with their facial structure—reminding him of something between a cat and a dinosaur with some extra parts at the sides—Martin could never be sure if they were smiling or glowering or about to cry. He suspected the turians felt the same about humans.

"Uh, I'm… honoured," Martin mumbled. "I think. And what do you—what do you want to talk about?"

"About our destination. Eden Prime. It's quite a symbolic place for you humans, is it not?"

"I suppose so." Martin tried to sound confident. "I mean, it's my first visit there, but I think I know quite a lot about it. I've read about the history of human colonization of space and I can say that the cultural significance of the colony on Eden Prime, one of our first extraterrestrial settlements—"

"Yes, yes." Nihlus raised his hand. "Thank you, Commander, but I didn't want a history lesson. I know how important Eden Prime is to your people. But I'm not sure how _safe_ it is."

Martin's brow twitched. "How safe…?" _Is it a test?_ Martin tried to recall everything he knew about Eden Prime. "It's been very peaceful so far, the people living there are mostly farmers, there have been no raids or armed conflict despite the colony being located close to the Terminus Systems, and then there's the matter of the mass relay connection, which allows—"

"But you have said it yourself, Commander Crieff: _so far,_ " Nihlus cut in. "There are many dangers in the galaxy—is humanity ready to face them? To fight them off?"

 _Oh goodness. It's definitely a test,_ Martin thought, digging deeper into the knowledge he had stored in his head, but before he could come with a potentially satisfying and complex enough answer, the door to the comm room opened again and Captain Anderson walked in.

"Commander, it's time you learnt more about our mission," he announced, walking up to the other two.

"Huh?" Martin glanced first at Anderson, then back at Nihlus, his mind still preoccupied with the data on Eden Prime, unsure if he could let go of it already.

"Right." Nihlus nodded. "This is not just a shakedown run. We have another objective, one that calls for the use of a ship with advanced stealth systems. Like the _Normandy._ "

"Oh. And… what is that objective?" Martin asked, still holding onto the data, just in case.

"A team of archaeologists found a Prothean beacon on Eden Prime," Anderson said. "We need to pick it up and bring it to the Citadel for study."

"A Prothean beacon!" Martin exclaimed with awe, but quickly stilled himself, hoping his outburst wasn't too unprofessional. But a _Prothean beacon…_ A fifty-thousand-years-old piece of technology, a relic of immense value, a potentially groundbreaking discovery on a galactic scale—like most discoveries of Prothean artefacts—and _he_ was among those deemed worthy enough to take care of it. "It's—it's amazing news, Captain. And I must say it's an honour to aid you in such an important task."

"Then you're up for another honour, Commander." Nihlus stepped a little closer. "Overseeing the extraction and transport of the beacon is only a part of my job today. The other part is evaluating your performance."

Martin stiffened at the words. _I knew it! I knew it's a test!_ "Evaluating my—what do you mean?"

"He means he wants to see if you're worthy of becoming a Spectre," Anderson explained.

If Martin had been holding anything in that moment, he would've dropped it. Since his hands were currently empty, the only thing that dropped was Martin's jaw.

A _Spectre._ The position Martin had coveted since he had realised people can't really become spaceships and had to re-evaluate his life goals—although he suspected him becoming a Spectre was only marginally more likely than becoming a spaceship. Even with his N7 designation, his reputation was so bad he had basically given up on ever achieving that goal—his only dream he had given up on so far. Well, that and the becoming-a-spaceship thing.

And yet there it was: a real, legitimate _opportunity._ Unless it was a joke. Except that it was the matter was unlikely one for Anderson and Nihlus to joke about. Especially Nihlus. Martin barely knew him, but the turian seemed like the kind of person who wouldn't joke about anything at all.

It took Martin a minute to shake off the initial shock and close his mouth, only to open it again, trying to come up with a response. When he finally did, he only managed to state the obvious.

"I—I—I—I'm speechless!"

"Yes, we can see that," Anderson said with a small smile. "Now, of course, this is just a start, a nomination, and you are not the only Alliance soldier to receive it, but the nomination alone is a huge privilege only a few proved worthy of."

"Actually, if I may ask…" Martin glanced sideways. He clasped his hands behind his back and took a deep breath, hoping the coming question wouldn't undermine his chances. "Why have I been chosen for the nomination? I mean… I'm aware of some the prevailing opinions about me… and some of my… well, of my flaws. I tend to mess things up sometimes. Or maybe often. I'm sure you are aware of all of that too. I'm—I'm not the best N7 graduate—far from it, probably. Of course, I'm still grateful and I—I am really glad my name's been put forward, but… what makes me worthy of this nomination?"

Anderson and Nihlus regarded him silently for a moment, until Anderson nodded and spoke up, his face serious. "Indeed, your nomination was among the most… _controversial_ ones. I think it's only fair for you to know that until the very end it was uncertain whether you should be considered or not, but, luckily for you, your candidature was approved."

"Yes, but why—" Martin started, but Nihlus cut him short.

"The draft of the list of potential candidates was forwarded to the Council and several Spectres for final approval," the turian explained. "When it came to you, two things in particular caught our attention and worked in your favour. The first was your determination."

"Which was also what I kept pointing out while considering your candidature," Anderson added, again giving Crieff a smile.

"I've heard of your human special forces training," Nihlus continued, "how much hard work it takes to complete just one rank. That you managed to get to the rank you have now… It's very impressive. _Yes,_ I know how many times you tried," he said, seeing that Martin wanted to speak again. "But you succeeded—against, all odds, one might say. Despite your previous failures, you pushed forwards—and it paid off. Such commitment is hard to come by."

"Oh—thank you," Martin uttered, bowing his head slightly. Another compliment. He managed to surpass his average monthly quota in one day.

"You're welcome, Commander. The other thing may seem a bit surprising… It was your unwillingness to go against official regulations."

"What?"Martin blurted out before he could stop himself. What Nihlus said wasn't merely surprising—it seemed quite ludicrous. One of the reasons Spectres were created was so that they wouldn't be bound by various laws, rules, and red tape that might prevent them from doing their job properly—said job being guarding the peace in the galaxy. Choosing someone on the basis of their conventionality seemed to Martin at last counterintuitive.

"Yes, to be honest, I am slightly sceptical about this one too," Nihlus admitted, rubbing his chin. "I'm not a by-the-book man myself. But the argument the Council put forward was that it would practically ensure you would not go _too_ overboard with your actions. As Councillor Tevos said, you are quite a 'safe' choice for a Spectre."

"Ah. Well. I understand."

"So do I, although we'll see how it goes. As I mentioned before, I'm going to observe you during this and several other future missions, and report back to the Council. Until then—"

"Captain Anderson, there's a problem!" Joker's voice suddenly said over the comm, alarmed. "We got a transmission from Eden Prime. You should see it."

The screen behind the comm terminal flickered to life, and what it showed immediately erased every trace of good mood from the room. Martin's joy quickly shifted into horror as he watched the shaky footage of what was obviously a heavy fight. The Alliance soldiers on screen were running about amongst explosions, exchanging gunfire with an enemy Martin could not recognise; one of the marines got closer to the camera and started to describe the situation only to be killed mid-sentence. Immediately afterwards the fighting stopped briefly as the soldiers looked up at _something_ in awe and fear—only to resume shooting seconds later.

The transmission ended abruptly and the screen filled with static.

"And that's it," Joker said. "There's nothing more. We can't establish a new connection."

"Reverse and hold at 38.5," Anderson commanded, brows furrowing, and a still appeared on the screen.

"What is _that?_ " Martin said in a hushed voice, looking at the _thing_ before his eyes, an enormous black shape reminiscent slightly of a hand trying to grasp those beneath it, surrounded by what seemed like red lightning. After a minute it occurred to him it could be a kind of ship, although one he'd never seen before—and it was what had captured the attention of those soldiers in the transmission. Even now, although the image was immobile and the vessel appeared definitely smaller than it must've really been, Martin found the sight deeply unsettling and all of the sudden he felt very, very tiny.

And it only got worse when he realised that the mission just got a _lot_ more difficult.


	2. Chapter 2

**Told you it would be** ** _very_** **irregular. Sorry.**

* * *

"One small step for mankind… one giant leap for Arthur Shappey!"

Martin gritted his teeth. He'd heard the variations of that line numerous times, said by many rookies on their first visit to another planet, but that was probably the most painful one so far, made only worse by the whole situation being certainly not one for such light-hearted remarks. Judging by Kaidan's sigh, his opinion was probably similar.

But they had a more pressing problems to take care of at the moment. Like getting to the beacon as fast as possible and not ending up dead in the process. Judging by the sounds of the still ongoing mayhem, the invaders—whoever they were—were quite nearby, although they were probably busy shooting other people at the moment. Hopefully some of them were also busy dying after getting shot by Nihlus, who was dropped off the _Normandy_ slightly at an earlier point and went ahead of Martin's squad as a one-man scouting party.

"Right then…" Martin tore his eyes away from the tall towers looming over the landscape beyond the edge of the cliff he was standing on and turned around to face the hilly, rocky landscape. Their destination—an archaeological camp—was only a short walk away down the nearest path, although the hills obscured it completely. Martin removed his assault rifle from the weapon holder strapped to his back and unfolded it. "Grab your weapons and let's move on, soldiers, we don't have time to linger on—"

" _Wow!_ " Arthur exclaimed, pointing at something on his left. "What is that thing?"

"It's a gas bag," Martin said, barely glancing at the appropriately-named bulbous creature, floating lazily with its long, stringy legs barely touching the ground and appearing to be absolutely not bothered by the ongoing invasion. Standard behaviour, as far as Martin remembered from his classes. "Not mind them. Won't harm us."

"Oh my, there's more of them over there! Can I take a picture, Commander?"

"No," Martin huffed, "you can take your _gun._ "

"I don't want to shoot them!"

"And you don't have to. Do you remember why we're here?"

"Why we're—ah! Right!" He reached for his pistol. "Lead on, Commander!"

 _I hope his combat skills are better than his attention span,_ Arthur thought as he led his team forwards down the path. They went quickly but carefully, watching their surroundings as if anything could just jump out of a rock—which was actually quite possible. The few charred corpses they passed on their way only served as an additional warning. But as they pressed on, they saw no one else, be it friendlies or hostiles. The only living things they passed were just some more idle gas bags.

"But if we're done with what we're here now," Arthur started somewhat shyly, "can I take a picture of a gas bag _then,_ Commander?"

Martin groaned quietly. "Private, I'd like you to ignore the gas bags for now, and focus on our mission."

"I'm trying! But what if after we get to that Prothean bacon—"

"It's called a beacon—"

"Okay, but what if after we get there we just go back to the ship? What if I never get to see those gas bags again?"

"Listen, Private…" Martin stopped in his tracks and turned to Arthur. "I don't know if you get to take your photos later, but I can tell you that you _most likely_ will never see the gas bag again if you keep getting distracted by them, thus allowing an enemy to _shoot you dead_ while you're not alert enough to—"

" _Watch out!_ "

Martin heard Kaidan's warning not much sooner than he heard a blast behind his back—and didn't waste his time to look around, jumping to the side at once and barely avoiding getting hit with something that looked like a bolt of plasma. When he turned to see the adversaries, instead of something at last vaguely humanoid, he saw three flying machines—drones probably. He swiftly pointed his weapon at one of them, ready to shoot—

And then they all exploded in a burst of bright blue light and fell to the ground hard, as if the planet itself all of the sudden decided to increase its gravity in that exact spot. The impact shattered them into pieces.

The event was so sudden it took Martin a moment to stop string at the drones' remains and register it had coincided with a quite high-pitched shriek that sounded very much like something Arthur might've produced.

Expecting to see a gory scene he wasn't going to like, Martin turned back to the private, only to see that he appeared to be completely unharmed. The only unusual thing about him was the fact that his pistol was on the ground, while his hands were up in the air, still aglow with fading blue wisps. He also looked somewhat shocked and he was staring at the remains of the drones. Then he glanced at Martin and Kaidan—who by that time were staring at him with their expressions more or less matching his—and lowered his hands.

"Uh—I—I panicked," he mumbled. "I'm… sorry. Won't happen again. I think. I hope."

"That was _you?_ " Kaidan choked out. "You _slammed those things to the ground?_ With your biotics?"

"Well… Yes?" The tone of Arthur's voice made it very clear that he couldn't really understand why somebody was asking a question which had a very obvious answer.

"That was… really impressive!" Kaidan gave him a pat on the shoulder. "It's not easy to use this type of biotics on airborne mechanical objects, even unshielded ones—especially several of them at once."

Arthur straightened up and smiled at Kaidan's remark. "Thanks!"

Meanwhile, Martin finally remembered that he could in fact speak and decided o take advantage of that before his subordinates would either spontaneously burst into some biotic babble incomprehensible to him or get locked in a stream of compliments and gratitude. "Right. That was great. Not that I know much about biotics, I have to admit…but I still think that was great. Good job, Private."

Arthur's smile widened. "Thank you, Commander!"

"But please…" Martin picked up Arthur's pistol and gave it back to its owner. "Just don't panic that much next time, okay?"

Arthur saluted. "Yes, sir! I'll do my best!"

Martin nodded and told his team to move on. While he hoped for the best, his bad feeling about the chances of completing the task without any major problems kept increasing. Panicking overpowered biotics were the last thing this mission needed. _Much potential,_ he thought, recalling Mrs. Knapp-Shappey's words. _A bit too much, if you ask me._

No sooner he thought that when he sighted three more drones closing in.

"Incoming hostiles!" He shouted, hopping behind the nearest boulder. He managed to catch a glimpse of Kaidan and Arthur also ducking behind some conveniently placed rocks before he leaned out of the cover and shot one of the drones just as it fired; Martin heard it crash to the ground while he hid from the blast. The sound of gunfire and the other two machines falling followed shortly.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Martin left cover and was about to push forwards, when he heard Arthur say in an almost offended tone, "You almost shot the gas bag, Commander!"

"Gas—" Martin looked at Arthur in disbelief. " _Gas bag?_ " He repeated. "What gas bag?"

"That one over there." Arthur pointed at a yet another unbelievably calm creature loitering about just several steps away from what was left of the drones. "It was a close call. You could have killed it!"

"Private, it's just a _gas bag._ "

"Gas bags have feelings too! I think. It's the first time I see them."

Martin wished he could facepalm properly while wearing a helmet. "We have an invasion here. There are _people dying._ And we have to secure a _Prothean beacon._ Being careful about not shooting any wildlife that is too dumb to keep away from danger is the least of our priorities."

To Martin's further bewilderment, Arthur pouted.

"You can't be so uncaring about those poor animal… weird… things, Commander," he said.

"For pity's sake, it's not like I _want_ to kill them—"

"Commander Crieff?" Nihlus' voice suddenly came up on the communicator, and Martin couldn't be thankful enough for having an excuse to cut the conversation on the gas bags short—but the message quickly dampened his spirits. "Commander, this is bad. Damaged buildings. Lots of dead bodies. I'm going to investigate. Meet you at the dig site."

"Roger that!" Crieff responded. "Lieutenant, Private, let's better hurry up."

They moved on a slightly faster pace now, stopping only to take cover behind rocks and trees when more drones would show up, an occurrence always accompanied by Arthur's warnings about not shooting the gas bags, which still remained annoyingly careless or had an apparent death wish. Soon Martin arrived at a point at which he wasn't sure what was getting on his nerves more: the drones, Eden Prime's wildlife, or Private Shappey.

Eventually, he noticed some sort of structure just round the nearest bend of the path and heard the sounds of a shootout. He didn't, however, manage to issue any command, or even come up with one, when a figure came running in their direction, followed by two others—being shot at by them, in fact. It didn't take him long to identify the first figure as a human soldier, while the others were… _what,_ exactly? He didn't know and didn't have time to take wild guesses. For now the fact that they had _brightly glowing faces,_ seemed just _off_ in general, and were clearly trying to kill the soldier—who at this point ducked for cover behind a boulder—was enough.

"Friendly ahead! Protect them!" Martin ordered, taking aim.

"Which one?" he heard Arthur ask, but the two mysterious hostiles dropped dead before Martin even bothered to reply. "Ah. So that leaves the one who's still alive, I think?"

Martin ignored him and rushed to the soldier. "You there! Are you okay?"

The soldier nodded, getting to her feet. "Yes, thank you. They got my shields really low… I thought I wouldn't make it." She shuddered, but then straightened up. "Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams, Unit 212."

"Commander Martin Crieff. Where are the others? What happened to your squad?"

Ashley shook her head. "Lost contact with them. We were ambushed. The rest of 212 probably got wiped out."

"Sorry to hear that—"

"Would you look at them!" Arthur's voice came from behind; Martin turned to see him leaning over one of the dead figures on the ground. "Never seen anything like that before! What are they?"

"Good question, actually." Martin came over to have a closer look at the unmoving figure. While it seemed vaguely humanoid, from up close it seemed not to even be a living organism. It was covered in metal from head to toe with cables and tubes sticking out of its body in places, and had something akin to a switched-off lamp instead of a face. Oddly enough, that rang a bell in Martin's head, but before he remembered the name, Ashley gave it to him.

"I think they're geth."

Martin turned around quickly, eyebrows raised in surprise. " _Geth?_ But that's—" _Impossible,_ he wanted to say, but apparently he had two proofs of the opposite at his feet. Not that he had ever seen a real geth before, but his training covered the topic during the segment on the dangers of AIs. He couldn't help that those bodies—if they could even be called so—looked disturbingly similar to the things he saw in the images and footage acquired from the quarians.

"Weird, I know," Ashley said. "200 years of silence and suddenly they venture outside the Perseus Veil… and attack us."

"200 years?!" Arthur asked, squeezing a surprisingly high amount of excitement in so few words. "But that's before the First Contact… Does it mean… does it mean we're the first humans to ever see those geth in person?"

"Well… in a sense, yes?"

"Wow!" Arthur's eyes were shining with glee. "That's brilliant!"

"Oh, for…" Martin sighed. "Maybe it would be brilliant if they weren't _trying to kill us._ "

"Well, that would certainly be _nicer,_ " Arthur admitted, "but it's still brilliant as it is!"

"…I really don't feel like discussing that at the moment. Or ever." Martin glanced at the structure nearby. "Chief Williams, I guess this is the dig site?

"Correct," Ashley confirmed.

"We need to get there. Better come with us and—ah, by the way, have perhaps seen a turian nearby?"

"No," said Ashley. "Never seen any turian on Eden Prime, honestly."

"Right… We should get mov—what is _that?!_ "

They were just a few steps away, and Martin wondered how he could have missed them so far. Maybe he was just too concerned about the geth and then too annoyed about Arthur being too happy about the wrong things. But that still seems to be a weak excuse for not having noticed a set of several tall metal spikes—with people impaled on them.

"Ugh. This is a bit extreme," Kaidan said through his teeth. "Did the geth do it?"

"Yeah. I actually saw them do this to one of them." Ashley looked at the spikes with disgust. "He seemed to have still been alive when they put him on one of these."

Martin almost wanted to ask Arthur if he geth still seemed so brilliant to him, but the private looked so repulsed by the sight he decided to let it slide this time.

"Ewww." Arthur shuddered. "Now this is… rather awful."

Deciding not to comment on that understatement of the century, Martin moved on, leading his squad towards the structure lying ahead of them—an odd circular formation accompanied by what seemed to be two tall concrete pillars. The thing looked ancient, especially surrounded by still working lamps and shiny metal fencing put around it, presumably by any scientists who had been researching it before invasion started.

And some of the lamps turned out not to be lamps at all.

"More geth incoming!"

There were only four of them, and Martin's party made a short work of them; the geth barely managed to shoot back before they dropped dead. Or broken. Or disabled. Martin never was really sure which word should be applied to an intelligent machine that was no longer alive—if "alive" itself was a proper word.

"The beacon should be here!" Ashley ran past the geth bodies and stopped in the middle of the structure. "It was—the last time I saw it, it was _right here._ In this very spot."

Martin frowned. "The geth must've taken it already."

"Or maybe not. Maybe the archaeological team managed to hide it before the geth got here. There's a research camp right over there, if there are any survivors left, we can ask them."

"Okay. Let's—"

Suddenly, Nihlus' voice came over the comm again. "Crieff, change of plans. I'm going to check a spaceport just ahead. I'll be waiting for you there."

* * *

Synthetic killer aliens. Exploding electric zombies. Doomsday weirdos. By the time they reached the spaceport, Martin had decided he absolutely _hated_ Eden Prime.

The geth menace was pretty much enough to lower any aesthetic or historical value of the place. The fact that they were weaponising their victims didn't help either. Really, Martin would be better off knowing that the spikes they'd been putting people on apparently changed the poor humans into some mindless husks, who, when released, tended to charge–in more ways than one—at every non-geth in sight. He had no idea how exactly the spikes worked and how long the conversion process must've lasted, but that didn't really matter. It was utterly disgusting and dangerous and that was all the information he needed on the subject. He hoped he'd never seen anything like that again, especially not with Arthur nearby. The husks scared the Private into producing a rather powerful biotic explosion which fortunately neutralised the threat, but almost managed to do so also with the party, which, however, didn't stop Kaidan from waxing lyrical about Arthur's powers again. At least Ashley seemed more concerned than impressed, and Martin was glad at least one other member of his party—apart from himself, naturally—demonstrated some sense of sanity.

The scientist they met afterwards in a locked shack was just icing on the cake. Not the sane one, no. That woman was alright, trying to stay rational and speak some sense into her colleague. Normally, Martin would probably pity the guy, but at that point he was getting rather annoyed. He needed concrete information, not ramblings of a madman. Something about prophets, beasts, and darkness. Oh, and extinction. How very useful. The only one who seemed to take him seriously was Arthur, and once they left the scientists in their shack, he kept asking how much time they had left and wondering what those "beasts" looked like.

On the other hand, the woman didn't have to get into all those tech details about the beacon. In retrospect, maybe Martin should've formulated his question better rather than just go with "Can you tell me anything about the bacon?"

But finally, _finally_ they got to the spaceport. Which was filled with more geth and husks. And where they witnessed something else.

Martin would recognise that everywhere—not even because he remembered the visual that good, but because of the _feelings_ it evoked it him. Dread. Hopelessness. The sense of smallness.

It was the ship he'd seen in the footage back on the deck of the _Normandy,_ right here before his eyes, wreathed in the familiar red lightning, in all its terrible glory. It seemed like it was taking off, and Martin could not be grateful enough for that, although it didn't make it any less frightening.

Especially that it made _that awful noise._

It sounded like a horn of some kind, only louder and deeper, its sound reverberating right down to Martin's very bones, only intensifying all the fear the sight itself had already inspired.

They stood there for a while, dumbfounded; Arthur even tried to cover his ears, despite the fact he was wearing a helmet. What snapped them out of that were the sounds of their shields and barriers being depleted by geth projectiles.

Thankfully, there were only a handful of enemies around, both geth and husks, and even though the spaceport was rather small, the area still offered lots of cover. Shooting from behind crates and ramps, Martin's party managed to dispatch them quickly, without even triggering another panic-fuelled biotic explosion courtesy of Arthur—probably mostly because he was still too busy staring at the black ship until it was too high in the sky to see.

"Right then… Where's Nihlus?" Martin muttered, more to himself than to anyone else, having made sure the last enemy in sight had been taken care of. "He said he'd be waiting here…"

"Don't see him," Kaidan said. "And I'm quite sure I didn't accidentally shoot a turian… You didn't get any new message on a private channel or anything?"

"No. I don't think we even _have_ a private channel—"

"Okay, but _did you see that ship?!_ " Arthur chimed in, and Martin recognized the kind of excitement in his voice. "I mean… Wow! I've never seen anything like that before!"

"Yeah, I think one time was already one too many for me."

"But… then that would be zero?"

"And that's precisely the point, Private. Back to the main subject. We got to find Nihlus."

"Maybe he's hiding somewhere nearby?" Ashley suggested.

"Why? He place wasn't exactly overrun. He's a Spectre. Knowing him, he could've handled them all by himself."

"And yet they were here, and it seems he's not." Martin looked at the main platform of the spaceport just ahead of them. "Let's go up there, maybe we'll find some clues…"

They found a clue to Nihlus' whereabouts as soon as they stepped up on the platform—and it was a painfully big clue.

"Uh… This… is not good," Kaidan commented sheepishly.

" _Quite_ not good," Martin added, his desire to get off this planet and regret of ever coming here in the first place increasing rapidly as he looked down at Nihlus lying on the platform, dead, with a hole in his head.

* * *

 **Yes, I shortened things a bit; it alrady feel too much like a (badly written) novelization of the game, so some cuts had to be made. Also, skipped the guys hiding in the shack. I really felt I could do without them. They're mostly in the game for expospeak and free loot anyway.**


End file.
